


nightmares about a nightmare

by Oceanicsignposts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanicsignposts/pseuds/Oceanicsignposts
Summary: Sirius is hit by a de-aging spell by Death Eaters while on a mission for the Order. James takes care of him and learns more about the abuse that Sirius suffered in childhood.Written fro the imaginejamesandsirius prompt blog on tumblr.





	nightmares about a nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [ImagineJamesandSirius](https://imaginejamesandsirius.tumblr.com/) prompt blog run by [Camichats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats) on tumblr.  
> Trigger warnings: child abuse, emetophobia

 

 

They had gotten separated during their mission, which was never a good thing. James needed Sirius to watch his back and vice versa. They had to split up when multiple Death Eaters had gone in separate directions. 

After James had scared off his set of Death Eaters, he had taken to the streets, looking everywhere for Sirius. 

It started raining, and James cursed his luck, casting a spell to keep the water off of himself. It was too dark and rainy to have good visibility and every corner he turned made him jumpy and on edge. He kept looking, afraid to call out to Sirius in case he were to alert Death Eaters to his presence. He still wanted nothing more than to call out to him and find him. They needed to get home.

He stopped abruptly when he heard sniffling. 

It took him longer to find the source of the sniffles, but found a small boy tucked up against a stoop of a building, so plastered up against the stone in hiding that he nearly missed him entirely. He knew how to hide in spite of ruining it with the sniffles.

“Hi, little one. My name’s James Potter. Don’t be scared.”

The boy looked up at him, his overgrown black hair sopping wet. He wiped quickly at his eyes, and for a moment James was struck by familiarity.

“It’s dangerous out here. We need to get you back to your parents. Can you tell me your name?” James asked.

The boy shook his head quickly.

James heard a noise. “I’m going to take you someplace safe. Don’t be scared,” he said. This was no place for a child, and he had no idea where the Death Eaters were. He held onto the boy’s arms tightly and apparated them both to James and Sirius’s home in Godric’s Hollow.

When they landed in his living room, James let go of the boy. He looked to be about ten years old— perhaps just a touch older. James had assumed that he was younger that that when they had been out on the street and he had been curled in on himself. He had grey eyes, and strikingly familiar bone structure.

“Are you related to the Black family?” James asked.

“No!” the boy shouted fiercely.

James raised an eyebrow.

“They’re mean. Really mean. I’m a muggleborn, you see,” the boy lied— and it was an obvious lie. James just wasn’t sure what he was lying about or  _ why _ . He was clearly one of Sirius’s many distant cousins.

“What were you doing in the middle of an alleyway at night? Aren’t you supposed to be at Hogwarts?” he asked.

“I was running from Death Eaters. I don’t remember why,” the boy said with a frown. He seemed to be struggling to remember something. He looked around James and Sirius’s cottage curiously.

“Could you tell me who your parents are? I want to get you home safely,” James said.

“I don’t have any,” the boy lied.

“You must have parents,” James said. “What’s your name?”

The boy wrapped his arms tightly around himself then, starting to shake. “I don’t have parents. I’m cold,” he said. “And my head hurts.”

“That’s not going to get you out of telling me your name,” James said. He performed a drying charm so that the boy wasn’t soaked from the rain.

The boy didn’t stop shaking, even with dry clothes. “I still have a headache,” he said.

“We’ll get you a potion for that once you tell me your name,” James told him.

“It’s a  _ really _ bad headache,” the boy told him, frowning.

“Did one of the Death Eaters hit you with a spell or something?” James asked. He would have dismissed it as a diversionary tactic, but the boy had been chased by Death Eaters. He could have very easily been injured, and it concerned him.

“I think so,” the boy said, hand gingerly touching the top of his head through the mess of silky black hair.

“Let me take a look,” James said. He reached over to part the boy’s hair, and the boy braced himself, not quite concealing a flinch.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s all right. I’ll take you right to the Ministry to get you sorted and back with your parents after we fix this- it’s a pretty nasty cut,” James said, being very gentle with his hair and avoiding the cut itself.

“Don’t take me to the Ministry! I’m muggleborn remember? They’re not going to help muggleborns much,” the boy told him.

James looked hesitant over that. This boy was bright. If he were a muggleborn, James wasn’t entirely sure that the ministry was the best place for him. He’d have better luck with the muggle policemen. He went to his cupboards and grabbed some dittany to put on the boy’s head. 

“Here, sit down on my sofa so that I can see better,” James said.

The boy hesitantly complied, settling awkwardly on the red cushioned sofa. 

“There,” he said, carefully applying the dittany to the wound and watching it heal. “That’s better.”

“You’re not taking me to the Ministry?” the boy asked, drawing his legs up to his chest. James didn’t even chastise him for getting sludge from the streets on his sofa, shoes still coated in it.

“I’m sorry, but I have to,” James said. “It’s to make sure that you’re safe.”

“I won’t be safe with my parents,” the boy told him. There was just enough fear in his eyes that in spite of the prior lying, James knew that was the truth.

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

The boy bit his lip. “My head still hurts,” he said instead.

James frowned. “Could you watch my finger? Now follow it. … Could you squeeze my hands? Hmmm... Probably a concussion,” he said, looking at the boy worriedly. “Do you  _ remember _ your name?”

“Yes,” the boy said sullenly.

James stood and grabbed out a premade potion that they kept on hand for Order missions gone awry. “Drink this,” he told him.

The boy tentatively took it from him, and sipped at the potion.

“Y’know, my partner didn’t like his family either,” James told him. He hoped Sirius was somewhere safe or at least making headway with the Death Eaters. He was worried, but he could handle himself and would completely understand why James was here with this scared boy. “He was scared of them when he was young. He didn’t feel safe at home even in his own room.”

The boy’s eyes snapped up at him, fully attentive. He handed him the bottle. ”What happened?” he asked.

“He ran away from home when he got older. Now he doesn’t think about them so much. It’s better. He’s happier,” James said. “Did you run away from home?”

“I… yeah. I think so,” the boy said. 

At that point James decided it might be best not to ask leading questions since the boy was willing to grab onto any details that he gave him and tell him what he thought that he wanted to hear. He remembered someone prattling on about that during a training for dealing with muggleborn children who had been attacked. It was difficult to follow training protocol in the moment.

He sighed. “Tell me about your parents,” he said.

“They’re not nice. They’re really mean to me. They hate that I’m in Gryffindor in Hogwarts. It was bad before then, but it’s  _ worse _ now. Sometimes I think it’s my fault,” the boy said quietly. 

“It’s not your fault,” James reassured him immediately.

“It is. Well, it’s not... It’s complicated. I’m not a good kid. When you hear stories about kids being taken away from parents because their parents hit them or curse them or whatever, they’re always perfect kids that didn’t do anything wrong. I do a  _ lot _  wrong,” the boy said quietly.

“I’m sure it’s just normal kid stuff,” James said reassuringly. The boy couldn’t understand that parents shouldn’t hit or curse children regardless of poor behavior. “I was a trouble maker and my parents were really nice about it— probably too nice. Just because you do a few things wrong, doesn’t mean that your parents should treat you poorly.”

“They don’t treat me poorly, really. They still have our house elf bring me dinner when I’m in trouble. They buy me racing brooms. They always give me pocket money-“

“I thought that you were a muggleborn,” James said before he could stop himself, catching the boy in a lie.

“Oh. Fuck. Oops. Please don’t be mad that I said that word. I’m not muggleborn. I’m so sorry. So sorry! Don’t take me to the Ministry and make me go back to them! Please! I’m not lying about them being awful to me. I’m telling the truth. I’d rather you put me back out on the street to take my chances with Death Eaters! Please believe me,” the boy said miserably and desperately, wiping at his eyes while trying to stop the sniffling that threatened to turn into outright sobbing.

“I believe you. I absolutely believe you. You’re safe here. You’re safe. You can stay here tonight and we’ll sort things out, all right?” James said.

The boy did sob then. “Th-thank you,” he said shakily through tears, small shoulders bunched up as he cried.

“I will have to know your name- just your first name. I don’t want to be calling you ‘boy’ or ‘kid’ since that’s not terribly polite,” James said.

The boy sniffled and nodded, eyes red. “Sirius— my name’s Sirius. Like the star.”

James stared at him in shock then. Realization dawned on him— this boy was wearing the same pair of blue jeans and plain grey muggle t-shirt that Sirius had been wearing. It hadn’t occurred to him at all that this boy could be Sirius until he said those words. It just hadn’t been in the realm of possibility that Sirius’s age could have been tampered with by the Death Eaters.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sirius rushed to say. “You’re thinking ‘oh, the  _ Black _ family. They’re respectable. They wouldn’t  _ hurt _ their son!’ Well you believed me before I told you that it was them, didn’t you? Just because they have money and… you don’t believe me anymore do you? Forget that I told you anything.”

He sobbed hard then, curling his legs up onto the sofa entirely and tucking into a tight ball. He was crestfallen.

“I believe you! I believe you! Bloody hell. I absolutely believe you. Come here,” James said, sitting on the sofa with him. He scooped Sirius up into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. Shaky arms went around his shoulders and Sirius buried his face in his neck.

“N-no one believes me. They used to be nicer before I got in Gryffindor, but then they changed,” he said. “They st-started hurting m-me.”

“They were never really  _ nice _ if something like a sorting ceremony could make them hurt you,” James said. “I believe you.”

He did believe him, although he knew just how prone Sirius was to lying at this moment- at this age. Sirius hadn’t mentioned being struck or cursed when they were in school, but it occurred to James that Sirius  _ really _ had been worried about people believing him. Perhaps others hadn’t believed him. He also wasn’t likely to tell his best friends something that he might have thought was shameful. James wouldn’t have wanted his friends knowing something like that when they were eleven. And then—

Then when they were older, Sirius hadn’t wanted to think about it. Sirius was prone to melancholy when he thought about his parents, and it was much easier for them to talk about  _ anything _ else.

He was only telling James all of this because he needed someone to trust and had no one else. 

“I had to run away from home. You can’t take me back,” Sirius told him. “You can’t.”

“I won’t take you back,” James reassured him. He rubbed small soothing circles over Sirius’s back. He still couldn’t believe how small he was– had they ever truly been that small?

“Good. I don’t actually remember running away this time, but I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again if I have to go back,” Sirius told him.

“I’m not taking you back,” James repeated, because Sirius so clearly needed that reassurance.

“You’re the first person that’s believed me,” Sirius told him quietly.

“Have you told someone else?” James asked before he could stop himself. He shouldn’t be prying while Sirius was in this vulnerable state, yet he felt compelled to talk to him- to let him talk it out if he needed to tell someone.

“I told my dad. I told him that Mum was hurting me. He believed about... erm, well, even Regulus has been spanked and he’s the good one, so he believed that part. He just told her not to hit me so hard. He didn’t believe that she was using spells that hurt me,” Sirius told him.

“What sort of spells did she- does she use?” James asked him.

Sirius shook his head. He buried his face in James’s neck again, crying harder again.

James held him more protectively, patting his back and rocking him in his arms. “You don’t have to tell me,” he told him. “I’m so sorry that your mum hurt you and that your dad didn’t believe you.”

Sirius’s nails dug into him then as he clutched him tighter, and James felt his shirt grow soaked with tears and snot from his crying best friend and partner.

“Do you want something to eat for dinner?” James asked.

“Not hungry,” Sirius mumbled.

“What about ice cream?” James asked. It wasn’t a great long term solution, but he was hoping they could get Sirius the correct age again soon.

“The ice cream’s not a bribe?” Sirius asked, lips pulled down in a frown with distrust.

“Of course it’s not a bribe. What would I be bribing you for?” James asked. He would never have turned down ice cream at Sirius’s current age. 

“Dunno,” Sirius said with a shrug. “Mum bought me a racing broom so I wouldn’t tell on her for bad stuff.”

“It’s not a bribe,” James told him genuinely, feeling heartbroken for him. “Except maybe to bribe you into eating something. I don’t want you going hungry.”

“I’ll eat it then,” Sirius decided.

James smiled and let Sirius climb off of his lap. He noted that Sirius stuck right to his side as they went to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl for him and a spoon, serving up a bowl of ice cream. 

“I’d like another scoop,” Sirius told him.

Rather than protest, James just added another, and made a sandwich for himself.

Sirius took the bowl and went over to the table, sitting down.

“So, I think after the ice cream, we’ll get some sleep. Tomorrow I have a special meeting with a secret society called the Order of the Phoenix. Would you like to come along?” James asked, sitting down across from him. He hoped that Dumbledore would be able to change Sirius back to normal.

“A secret society?” Sirius asked with a sharp inhale of breath, eyes lighting up with intrigue. “Of course I want to come along. What do they do?”

“They fight Death Eaters,” James explained.

“Do you fight Death Eaters?” Sirius asked.

“Yes. I was fighting Death Eaters when I found you,” James told him.

“Wicked!” Sirius said with a grin.

“Since they fight bad people, I think that they’ll know how to help you,” James told him.

Sirius’s face fell. “I thought that I could stay with you,” he said, having immediately taken a liking to James.

“You can— you will. They will know a few more things to help though. For instance, I gave you a potion for your headache, but a healer should take a look at it as well,” James explained.

“I guess so,” Sirius said. He fiddled with his spoon and ice cream, stirring it so that he made little puddles in his bowl. “It’s just a headache.”

James took a deep breath, but didn’t comment, realizing exactly what Sirius wasn’t saying.  _ ‘I’ve had worse _ .’

“Thank you for the ice cream,” Sirius said then, scooting the half finished bowl away.

“Are you finished?” James asked.

“I’m not all that hungry after all. Sorry for wasting your ice cream,” he said.

“It’s not a waste,” James said with a shrug. “Your eyes were just bigger than your tummy.” He took a couple bites of the ice cream that hadn’t melted or been stirred into a liquidy goo and put the rest of it in the sink.

“That’s gross. You used my spoon,” Sirius said, making a face.

James laughed.

“What?” Sirius asked, frowning. He didn’t like being left out of jokes.

“It doesn’t bother me. Your germs don’t bother me at all,” James said. “Let me show you the guest room. You need to get some rest.”

Sirius followed him into James’s bedroom first. James grabbed out a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey that Sirius regularly used as a nightshirt, and sweatpants.

“Were you a Gryffindor too?” Sirius asked.

“Of course,” James said. He led Sirius into the guest room. “This is where you will be staying.”

Sirius looked at the room curiously. “Thank you,” he said politely.

“You can sleep in this,” James said, shrinking the jersey and sweatpants down significantly with a wave of his wand. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll wake you up for breakfast in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Sirius said, expression inscrutable. He reminded James of Regulus in that moment, overly stoic. It was a little unnerving. He took the proffered nightclothes.

“G’night," James said, feeling a little guilty about leaving him alone for the night.

“Night,” Sirius echoed.

James shut the door behind him to give Sirius some privacy. He headed back to his room and changed. Even though he didn’t always wear pyjamas to bed, he put them on for that night.

He slipped under his sheets, trying not to dwell on Sirius’s past and the abuse. He had been aware of some of the abuse, but it was different knowing the depths of it and seeing how  _ small _ Sirius was when it had occurred. Eleven years old hadn’t seemed so very young when he was eleven himself.

At some point he must have dozed off, because a knock at his bedroom door woke him up. It took him a moment to remember why Sirius wasn’t curled up in bed with him and who would be knocking at his bedroom door in the middle of the night.

“Come in,” he said, lighting up his room so that they could see.

Sirius was standing in his doorway clad in the Quidditch jersey and sweatpants, but both articles of clothing were completely covered in puke. “Could I borrow your wand?” he asked shakily, face pale.

“What for? Here, let me get you cleaned up,” James said, standing up quickly.

“I can do it. That’s why I wanted to borrow your wand. I can clean up,” Sirius said, pale face splotchy with red from embarrassment.

“You didn’t mention that you felt sick,” James said worriedly. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and went over to him.

Sirius flinched and ducked out of the room. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it! I’LL DO IT! Just let me borrow your wand,” he said, voice cracking.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I promise that I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry that I scared you,” James said quickly realizing that Sirius was still nervous about punishment. He set his wand down on the carpet. “I’ve put my wand down now. You’re safe.”

Sirius peered around the doorway and looked down at the wand. “I’m not really sick,” he told him. “I had a nightmare and threw up.”

“About your parents?” James asked.

“What do you think?” Sirius mumbled irritably. He took a hesitant step closer. “Can I borrow your wand?”

Now that he was nearer, James smelled the sick that Sirius was covered in and caught a distinctive whiff of urine as well. Even if Sirius was putting on a brave front, James realized that he had wet the bed and had a panic attack severe enough to make him vomit as well. It was one hell of a reaction to abuse years and years in the past— although he supposed that it was far more recent for Sirius.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. Have you cast spells with someone else’s wand before?” James asked gently.

“I accidentally set the sofa on fire last time,” Sirius admitted. “I swear that I can do it this time though.”

“It’s no big deal. I can clean up for you. Here, change into these if you’re not comfortable with me doing magic on you right now,” James said, grabbing out another set of mismatched clothes that Sirius frequently wore to bed— also in Gryffindor colors— and shrunk them down.

“Thanks,” Sirius said quietly.

“I’ll go clean up the bedsheets while you change,” James told him, taking his wand.

“Wait— I can do it!” Sirius protested.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve cleaned up vomit before,” James told him. “You can use my toilet to clean up.”

Sirius still looked uncomfortable, but let him go.

James went to the guest bedroom and quickly discovered that most of the vomit must have ended up on Sirius directly. He still cleaned the sheets, knowing that most of the mess was from an accident that Sirius very clearly did  _ not _ want him to know about. Had Sirius had nightmares bad enough to cause him to wet the bed while they were at Hogwarts? He supposed that with his own wand, Sirius would have easily been able to hide it. James did remember him having a very bad case of the stomach flu after the winter holidays first year. He really doubted that it had actually just been the stomach flu after witnessing this. It had to have been a reaction to trauma.

When he went back to his room, Sirius had already changed and was fiddling with some of James’s dresser knobs. He stood up straight and tried to pretend he hadn’t been snooping.

“It’s all clean. It was mostly water- must have just been stomach bile,” James lied to spare him some embarrassment over the mess.

“Yeah, stomach bile,” Sirius agreed, looking relieved.

“D’you want to tell me about the nightmare?” James asked.

“No,” Sirius said hesitantly, “but can I stay in here for a while if I do?”

“You can stay in here even without telling me about it,” James said. 

“Okay,” Sirius said. 

Sirius looked more hesitant then. “Are you- is that your boyfriend?” he asked, pointing to a photo of himself. In the photo he had his arm around James and was kissing his cheek and periodically whispering in his ear. James would turn his head and whisper something that made the photograph of Sirius laugh.

“Husband, actually. I love him a lot,” James said, mostly because he wasn’t sure what to say to Sirius in this state.

Sirius put his elbows on the dresser, leaning on it and looking at the picture more closely. “I think that’s me,” he said so softly and so quietly that James almost didn’t hear it. 

“What?” James asked. 

“Nothin’,” Sirius said, although when he turned back around, his face looked more grave and a bit wiser, as if the fog of the concussion had faded. He ran over and launched himself at James, wrapping his arms around him tightly, face tucked agianst his chest. “I’m scared. Can I stay with you tonight?”

James wavered, although his arms went instinctively around Sirius. He was positive that he had overheard Sirius correctly. James didn’t think that Sirius would ask to stay with him had he actually been completely clueless and eleven years old– but then he had been through trauma. Sirius had seemed so brave when they were both eleven. He wouldn’t have wanted to stay with a stranger— at least James didn’t think he would have. Maybe he would have if someone had shown him kindness or promised him that he wouldn’t have to stay with his parents.

“You can stay with me,” he found himself saying. He squeezed Sirius extra tight and looked down at him. There was definitely recognition in those watery grey eyes, and maturity that he wasn’t sure had been there a moment ago– or was it just tiredness and fear? 

Either way, James wasn’t about to ask or call him out on it if Sirius did remember who he was properly now. If he could give him a little bit of extra comfort that both of them weren’t capable of talking about normally– James wasn’t going to make this unnecessarily hard.

“Thank you,” Sirius said. He pulled away and looked just nervous enough about climbing into their bed that James decided it was possible that the flicker of recognition and maturity could have been his imagination. 

He decided that he would never know.

He felt like they both knew. 

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” James told Sirius, and slid into bed. 

Sirius climbed in after him and tucked up against him, wrapping his arms back around him. “I had a nightmare that Mum was spanking me,” he told him.

“She can’t hurt you anymore,” James reassured him, holding him protectively in his arms. Walburga couldn’t hurt him now that she was entirely out of his life. 

“I hate spankings. She doesn’t spank Regulus anymore. She uses her hairbrush on me. It doesn’t hurt so much, but I think I’m way too old to be spanked,” Sirius told him shakily, more bothered by the embarrassment and humiliation than the physicality or pain of it. “I hate her!”

“I hate her too,” James whispered, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy thick swallow as he held back tears of his own and rubbed soothing circles over Sirius’s back again.

He broke down into sobbing again, hiding his face against James. “I hate spells, but sometimes I hate spankings more. And she uses  _ nasty _ spells,” Sirius told him through his sobs.

“Unforgivables?” James asked quietly.

Sirius made a choked noise, but didn’t answer the question. 

He didn’t need to answer the question. James pretended like he hadn’t asked it. 

“Don’t worry. You’re never going back to her. I’ll take you to the Order of the Phoenix meeting tomorrow on y- er, my partner’s motorbike– you’ll love that. We’ll fix everything, all right?” James told him. 

“What’s a motorbike?” Sirius asked. 

James paused, still not sure if he was lying, what he remembered, or if they were both pretending. Maybe he would never know after all. He hugged Sirius tightly, and began explaining about motorbikes. He ran his fingers through silky black hair, explaining quietly and in detail until Sirius’s breathing evened out and James’s voice overcame fear.

Sirius slept then, nestled in James’s arms. He kept holding him protectively throughout the night until he dozed off himself. 

_________________________________________

The next morning, light filtered into the bedroom, and with it took away the shadow of Walburga that loomed entirely too large in both of their lives than the middle aged witch deserved. Sirius poked James awake. 

“You promised we were going to ride on the motorbike today,” Sirius reminded him. 

“I did,” James agreed. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven o’clock,” Sirius told him. He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth a couple times obnoxiously imitating ticking noises. It had amused James when he had been eleven, but it was less amusing now.

James cursed and rolled out of bed then. “We’ve got to get going. We’re going to be late,” he said. He went to his dresser and grabbed out clothing for them both, resizing some for Sirius. 

He went to the bathroom to get dressed and brushed his teeth. When he stepped back into the room, Sirius had finished dressing as well and was sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs. 

“Get your shoes on, and let’s get going,” James told him. 

Sirius nodded and did as he was told. 

James led him outside and to where they’d parked the motorbike. 

“Whoa,” Sirius said, looking suitably impressed with wide eyes and a wider grin. 

“Hop on,” James said, straddling it. Sirius climbed up behind him and latched his arms around him tightly. 

They flew through the sky, much to Sirius’s delight, to Emmeline Vance’s home where that day’s meeting was to be held. 

James parked just outside, shutting off the motorbike.

“Can we go again?” Sirius asked.

“Later,” James said. 

“I want to go  _ now _ ,” Sirius protested. 

“Don’t you want to go to the Order of the Phoenix meeting? It will only take a couple hours,” James told him.

“That sounds like forever,” Sirius complained. “It’s for real a secret society?”

“It is,” James promised. “Come on.” 

Sirius frowned, but followed him to the front door of the unassuming house. 

“It’s James Potter,” he said, knocking on the door. He exchanged pleasantries (and confirmation that he was indeed James Potter, with Emmeline Vance at the front door) while Sirius stuck close behind James, not paying that much attention aside from hiding somewhat nervously from her.

“I have Sirius with me. He’s… small right now. He was cursed by Death Eaters and had a concussion, so he’s a bit out of sorts,” James said. He gestured to Sirius.

Sirius took hold of James’s arm then and tucked up against his side, looking up at Emmeline Vance nervously.

“Hello Sirius,” Emmeline said gently, looking down at him. 

“...’lo,” Sirius mumbled, staying tucked tight against James.

“Don’t be afraid,” James told him. He looked up at Emmeline. “He’s a bit shy just now.”

Emmeline nodded and ushered them inside. “He should be looked at,” she said.

“Yeah. I’m hoping Dumbledore can help,” James admitted.

“Me too,” Emmeline said, looking at Sirius. She patted his head, but he shrunk away from her touch, clinging to James.

Sirius stayed glued to James’s side as they walked to the sitting room. He took hold of James’s hand, holding onto it tightly with both of his, looking cautiously afraid of the others. 

“Who’s that?” Peter asked when he spotted James.

“It’s Sirius. We er– had a bit of a run in with Death Eaters and things got a bit messed up. We’re hoping Dumbledore can put him right,” James told him.

“Don’t worry Sirius, I’m sure Dumbledore can help,” Remus told him kindly.

Sirius gave half a smile at that, but tucked back against James. When James sat down he stuck right to his side, burying his face against his shoulder. He squeezed his hand, and James squeezed it in return to try to reassure him. 

“You’re okay,” James whispered to him, and that did seem to calm him down. 

Even though James spoke to the other members of the Order, Sirius wasn’t paying much attention, still nervous and skittish about being surrounded by people. He seemed incapable of putting on a brave face at the moment, and James was grateful that most people assumed that it was from the Death Eater attack rather than something further in Sirius’s past and a more embedded fear. 

“Ah! Dumbledore. I was waiting for you to get here,” James said brightly when he arrived. “We really need your help. Sirius had a bit of an incident with the Death Eaters.”

“I see that,” Dumbledore said, looking down at the eleven year old Sirius, who was still hiding against James.

“Could you er– do you know how to fix something like this?” James asked.

“It should be fairly simple to make him the correct age again,” Dumbledore said.

James set his jaw. He hated when Dumbledore was so deliberate with his word choice. He seemed almost mocking when rather than answering with a ‘ _ yes we can fix it _ ’ he seemed to imply that a thorough ‘fixing’ was more challenging than just a simple age correction.

“Sirius, sit up for a moment,” James told him. “Dumbledore is going to help.”

Sirius slowly pulled away from James, and looked up somewhat distrustfully into Dumbledore’s face. He glanced nervously at James a few times. 

Dumbledore cast a wordless spell, and left a very out of sorts– yet adult– Sirius sitting by James’s side. 

“There we are,” Dumbledore said. “Better?”

“Better,” Sirius said, although he still looked shaken up from the ordeal. 

“Padfoot, do you want to go home instead of sitting through the meeting?” James asked.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Sirius reassured him, sitting back. 

“If you say so,” James said.

Sirius was quiet for the rest of the meeting, but managed to ride it out, sitting just a little closer to James than normal through the duration.

___________________________________________________

They didn’t talk about it when they got home. They went through their usual routines and fell into a comfortable sort of normality. It was only when they climbed into bed together that the normalcy dropped. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whispered, once James turned off the light.

“For what?” James asked.

Sirius shrugged.

They were quiet for a moment, and Sirius almost thought that the moment of discussion had passed entirely– that they wouldn’t ever bring it up. 

“I’m sorry I pried. I’m sorry if there was stuff you didn’t want me to know about,” Jame told him.

“S’fine,” Sirius said. Then he rolled over and tucked against James again.

James felt wetness against his neck, and held Sirius tightly, neither of them bringing up the silent tears. 

“I hate your Mum,” James said.

“Me too,” Sirius mumbled. 

“I love you,” James whispered. “So much.”

“I lo-ove-” Sirius started, but his voice broke on the words, and rather than finish what he was saying and echo the words back, he tucked tighter against James.

“I’m so sorry,” James whispered.

And then the moment really did pass. Sirius stayed tucked up against James, holding onto him a bit more desperately than normal, but not voicing anything. 

James would never know for certain exactly how much Sirius had been cognizant of during the time he spent small. He did, however, treat him just a bit more gently, more protectively for the next few days. If Sirius noticed a difference, he didn’t call him on it.


End file.
